


Finish Line

by melagan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Bad Puns, Canon Related, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-15 23:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21261626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melagan/pseuds/melagan
Summary: Rodney fixes his remote-controlled car to win. So why does he fell so bad about it?





	Finish Line

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Story Works picture prompt. I chose this picture. 

Rodney gently blew the dust away from the tiny gear. He could already picture the look on John's face when his souped-up race car blew John's out of the water. Just one more tweak, a small bead from the eyedropper to lube the engine, and two minutes reassemble it all. All that remained was a test drive.

He snuck down the hallway late enough that everyone should be asleep. He didn't need any busy-bodies asking questions when he took his revamped remote-controlled car out for a spin. Rodney's competitive, little heart filled with glee as his car careened down the hall and took the first curve at top speed. Yes! Sheppard's puny race car didn't stand a chance against his. 

Tucking his car under his arm Rodney headed back to his quarters. Once again, the McKay genius would crush the competition! He paused in front of his door. So, why didn't he feel better about it?

Multiple times over the years Rodney had trampled his peers with his brain and crowed about it afterward. He shook his head. Why didn't this feel the same? 

John would see it as a friendly competition, of course, he would. Hell, he'd probably do the same thing given a half a chance and access to liquid naquadah. Rodney blew out a slow breath and hung his head. It was a perfectly straightforward rationalization and it didn't make him feel one bit better. 

Because—because damn it—this thing with John felt different. Rodney leaned his head against the doorframe and groaned. Now he'd done it. He was never going to get to sleep until he figured this out. Without a doubt, this tightness in his chest was all John Sheppard's fault and he needed John to make it go away.

Screw the late hour, Rodney needed answers. With the forgotten race car still tucked under one arm, he squared his shoulders and strode toward John's quarters.

~ ~ ~

The pounding on his door startled John awake and he reached for his nine-mil. He hadn't always slept with his sidearm next to his bed, but living in Pegasus had ground that need into him. He'd barely gotten both feet untangled from the sheets before Rodney had cracked the lock on his door and stumbled inside.

"McKay?"

"You!" Rodney jabbed a finger at him. "You have to fix me!"

"O-kay." John slipped the safety on and set his nine-mil back down on the dresser. This looked like a situation that called for diplomacy and beer, not bullets. Despite being wild-eyed and flushed, and still wearing the science shirt he'd stained with mustard at lunch, this wasn't Rodney's usual we're-all-going-to-die panic. There wasn't enough grim-lined jaw for one thing. Still, judging from his jittery pacing something had Rodney wound up in knots. 

Just to be on the safe side, John asked, "And you're sure nothing's wrong with Atlantis? No Wraith, no pending explosions, no immediate need to evacuate?"

Rodney glared. 

"Great. Why don't you start out by telling me what's broken, Rodney and then I'll see if I can fix it." John hitched up the waist of his sleep pants, sat down on the edge of his bed and patted the space next to him. "Sit." 

Rodney stared blankly at John, shifted his gaze to the empty space on the bed next to him and then back to John. "Uh, maybe I'll just stand."

"Suit yourself." John waited as the silence grew. Another minute ticked by. "Well?"

"Right, okay, yes—um. I need you to fix me because this is obviously your fault!" 

"It's 0200 McKay, could you get to the point a little quicker? Some of us would like to get back to sleep."

"Exactly! I can't sleep because of you."

John rolled his eyes. "If you're missing your favorite pillow, I had nothing to do with it."

Rodney just steamrolled over his comment as if he'd never spoken. "I never had this problem until you!" He began pacing. "Not to say I've intentionally crushed my academic adversaries with my brain, okay, I have…but I never felt bad about it. 

He suddenly seemed to realize he was still holding onto the yellow racer. He thrust it into John's hands. "This! This is exactly what I'm talking about."

"Right." John flipped the car over and absently spun the wheels. "Well, that's as clear as mud." 

If he'd had a full night's sleep, he might have noticed it sooner. As it was it took John a few minutes to realize there was something funky about the car. "Rodney, what's making the underside so shiny?" He tried scraping it with his thumbnail. "That's not oil."

"No, it's not. And stop doing that before you hurt yourself." Rodney moved to snatch the car out of his hands but John was ready for him. He twisted away keeping it out of reach. 

"Stop touching it! It's liquid naquadah. Just a tiny drop, but it's not anything you want on your skin." 

"Crap. Is it going to blow up?" John jumped up and carefully moved the car to the floor at the foot of the bed. "How about warning a guy next time?" 

Expecting a snappy comeback and not hearing one, he looked up to see Rodney had covered his face with his hands.

"You're upset because—" John had to take a minute to make certain he'd put the pieces together correctly. He began again. "Rodney, are you blaming me for feeling bad because you tried to rig the race?" 

"Yes," came the muffled reply. 

John stood and stepped into Rodney's space. "Which normally you wouldn't feel bad about." 

"No." Rodney lifted his head from his hands, revealing a pale face with ruddy splotches of color in his cheeks. "It's not my fault if people aren't smart enough to keep up. Except you're you, and now I feel awful about trying to fix the race. That's never happened to me before."

He reached out and grabbed the onto the front of John's tee shirt and held on. "How do I make this feeling go away?"

"I don't know, you could be in trouble. After all, you gave up a win, a sure thing." John shook his head. Of course, you did do it for me so…I might have an idea that will help." 

Gently, John tilted Rodney's chin up. As he brushed his thumb over Rodney's lower lip, he let his eyes do the rest of the talking for him, making his intentions clear. 

"Oh," Rodney breathed out softly.

"Yeah." John leaned in and kissed him. Rodney's lips were warm and yielding under his and when John began to pull away Rodney's mouth tried to follow. So, okay, not pulling away. 

John deepened the kiss letting the sound of Rodney's answering moan fill his senses. It felt like it took forever to get here, but they were here now and he wasn't ever letting go. 

Judging from the way Rodney now had both fists gripping tightly onto John's shirt, he didn't have any intention of ever letting go either. Good. 

Coming up for air, one look at Rodney's reddened, kiss swollen mouth and John wanted to dive back in again. He was stopped by the dangerous glitter in Rodney's eyes. 

"Aha! I was right, all along. This was all your fault!"

It was the tell-tale quirk of a badly hidden smile that told John he wasn't in any real trouble. That and Rodney's demanding tug on his shirt. 

"Blame me all you want." John's hands settled on Rodney's hips finding a new home there. "It does seem to be working for us."

Rodney curled hand over the back of John's neck pulling him in for another kiss. "Just wait. I have a whole list of things I'm going to blame you for, and it's growing bigger by the minute."

And, really, John only had one response to that. "Well, hell, Rodney, you know me. I've always been a sucker for a big list."

~~~


End file.
